


Nube Negra

by multifannish



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bad Flirting, Enemies to Lovers, Idk what to tag this as, In a way, M/M, Play Fighting, Voyeurism, everything is just, ish, nothing fits, that one fits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-31 03:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifannish/pseuds/multifannish
Summary: Grimmjow and Ulquiorra have been sending each other through walls every couple of days as per usual. Aizen is getting quite concerned that their fighting is getting out of control. Except they haven't been fighting for weeks.





	Nube Negra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnxiousEspada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousEspada/gifts).

„They’re fighting _again_. I do believe if this continues, we’ll have to take some measures against it.”

“That ain’t fightin’.”

The former Taichō turned around and raised his eyebrow at Gin, who was grinning away like usual while presumably watching the screens in front of them. Sometimes Aizen wondered whether Gin used echolocation instead of his actual eyes to navigate the world. There was just no way he could _see_ like that. 

“What do you mean, ‘they’re not fighting’? They’ve been sending each other through walls for weeks!”

“Been ruinin’ half the place, too. Who’s supposed to get that all back up ’n standin’ anyway?”

Aizen didn’t reply, seeing as his question had not been answered. Gin sighed, grin shifting ever so slightly in the way that it did when he would have rolled his eyes, had they been open.

“Y’see, I can point it out to ya when they do – but trust me. They ain’t fightin’. Haven’t been fightin’ for weeks.”

“Then what do you suggest we call _this_,” Aizen said pointedly, just as the screen displayed Grimmjow crashing into yet another pillar and clouding the scenery with dust.

Gin grinned even wider. “They’re flirtin’.” 

“Give it up, Grimmjow.”

“Ha! I’m only just _beginning!_”

“I have tasks to fulfil.”

“You’ll have to go through me then!”

Grimmjow was laughing maniacally, planting his feet and dashing forward, Pantera in hand, to attack once more. Ulquiorra looked unimpressed, but that was just his face after all.

“I said…” he began, and with a strike of his Zanpakutō pushed Grimmjow off and into another wall, “I have tasks to fulfil.”

He was still faster than Grimmjow, his Sonído effortless and without sound as he appeared next to Grimmjow in a flash and smashed him into a pillar with such force that it gave in and spread more dust and debris everywhere. 

Grimmjow struggled to get back to his feet quickly. He was just seconds too slow – he had gotten faster, much faster, since they’d started sparring regularly. It might not have looked like it, considering that once again a painful kick to the lower back had him facedown in rubble and he was cursing loudly through a mouthful of dust now, but he did consider their fights to be more like a fun way to practise their skills than anything else. 

“Dammit, Ulquiorra, you – !”

He attempted to shoot a cero in the Cuatro Espada’s general direction just to get a moment to breathe at this point, but Ulquiorra was still just ever so slightly too fast for him. Smacking his arm away, he had Grimmjow’s cero blast away somewhere behind his head, looking fully unbothered by the pressure wave that washed over them moments later. But again – that was just his face. 

He held Grimmjow pinned against the wall with ease, pushing his elbow across Grimmjow’s wrist and holding his hand to his neck. Grimmjow glared down at him. Ulquiorra softly let his finger rest against Grimmjow’s chest. 

“Give. It. Up,” he said again, looking up at Grimmjow’s bared, grinding teeth. “I will not hesitate to blow another hole into you with my cero right now.”

“I dare you,” Grimmjow spat with that grin of his that he wore when refusing to admit his clear defeat. Ulquiorra grabbed his collar and pulled him down so their eyes were level, glaring at Grimmjow menacingly. “Give it up,” he whispered.

“Double dare you,” Grimmjow whispered back, feeling the pressure of the white finger against his chest. For a heartbeat or so, they just stared at each other, then Ulquiorra let go of him and pulled back. 

“You have to learn how to admit defeat, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,” he said in a tone as if he were bored, and turned around to leave. His white coat blended into the white walls around him.

“Oi, Ulquiorra! We’re not done yet!”

Ulquiorra just lifted one hand to give his goodbyes. “We shall settle the score next time then.”

Grimmjow grinned and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched the other Espada disappear. 

“Yeah, as always.”

There had been no winner in their battles for weeks.

“Flirting, huh?” Aizen murmured with knit brows, watching Ulquiorra leave to attend to his remaining duties of the day. 

Gin chuckled. “Can ya really call that anythin’ else?”

“You certainly could. Well either way, there’s _something_ going on with the two of them for sure. Maybe it’ll do them some good once they finally figure themselves out.”

“Ya gonna let ‘em go on with it then?”

“Well, they’ve not destroyed anything of significance yet and many of them smack each other around all the time. And if they are, as you call it, flirting,” he raised his eyebrow again and Gin grinned his eyeroll-grin, “then maybe whatever arises from that could be beneficial for our purposes.”

“Are ya plannin’ to blackmail ‘em?”

Aizen smiled deviously. “Why, that would require too much effort.”

The battles continued, shaking Las Noches with bangs and explosions ever so often as Grimmjow and Ulquiorra trashed another corner of this enormous building that appeared to be a sheer endless labyrinth of winding white corridors. 

Their meetings had stopped being spontaneous almost entirely – in the beginning of it, the cause had usually been them happening across each other in a hallway, each with enough time to initiate a ritual of arguing for the sake of an excuse to indulge in a fight. Now, they left every time knowing there would be a next one, agreeing on a time and a place that fit into their schedules.

Grimmjow would break into a wild grin when he saw Ulquiorra waiting or turning round a white corner after him, whereas Ulquiorra’s everlasting expression of indifference softened ever so slightly when his eyes met Grimmjow’s expectantly. 

They drew their Zanpakutōs and jumped. 

“Fancy meeting you here, still testing your luck!” Grimmjow grinned, swinging Pantera to clash against Murciélago. “One of these days I’ll beat you and they’ll have to switch out our numbers!”

“You’ve improved since we first fought,” Ulquiorra said. He twisted out of the path of a kick and swiftly turned to deliver a strike of his own, only for Grimmjow to block him with surprising ease.

“Wish I didn’t have to say the same,” Grimmjow replied, grin still on his lips. “But you’ve shown me some nice tricks to evade my attacks. I gotta work on that!”

“It seems I should improve my speed as well,” Ulquiorra replied when he found his attack blocked again. 

“I’m catching up, eh?! Try and outrun _this!_”

Throughout the clashing swords, clouds of dust and groans as they hurled each other into the walls once more, their conversations went on, slowly moving away from anything relating to their fighting and power with each new time they met.

“How’d you die? What’s your aspect?” Grimmjow asked one day whilst ducking under Ulquiorra’s arm and smashing him against a pillar. It cracked under the force of the impact. Ulquiorra managed to hold a deadpan look in his eyes throughout all of it.

“Emptiness,” he replied. His voice carried the eyeroll he neglected to display. Grimmjow snorted. It was obvious, really.

“What’s yours?” Ulquiorra shot back. His cero was blowing a hole in the wall while Grimmjow narrowly avoided the blast of it. 

“Destruction!” Grimmjow laughed over a crumbling pillar. “I see,” said Ulquiorra in the eyeroll-tone, because of course it was. 

“You think they matter?” Grimmjow asked, “The aspects?”

“Obviously,” Ulquiorra said, dodging a cero that was aimed with entirely too much precision. “Look at yourself.”

“Look at _myself?!_ Look at _you!_” Grimmjow protested indignantly. He turned in mid-air to catch his feet on one of the pillars and push himself off of it with force. Pantera missed Ulquiorra’s cheek by a hair. 

“I mean,” he then clarified his question, “Are they something we’re in control of…”

He landed in what had once been a spotless, white room and looked up at Ulquiorra who was shooting down from above, cero glowing at his fingertip. At the last second, he directed it to miss Grimmjow just barely and landed down next to him. Grimmjow’s face was earnest.

“…or are the aspects in control of us?”

“Elaborate, if you will,” Ulquiorra said. Their Zanpakutōs scraped the floor as they held them loosely, not yet putting them away so they wouldn’t have to fully admit that they had, in fact, given up fighting in favour of conversation.

“Well, take yours, emptiness. If you’re really empty, why are you loyal? Why take actions in the name of loyalty that you would consider a useless effort if you really were indifferent? Are you trying to fight back against what made you like this in the first place? Fill the emptiness with something because it’s not bearable otherwise?”

“You are making assumptions about things you know nothing about.”

Grimmjow didn’t stop. He knew he’d hit a nerve and for a moment, a grin tugged at his lips that only disappeared when he continued speaking. “If emptiness defines you, why do you have questions? Why do you care to know what a heart is? Why even get out of bed if you’re indifferent to anything and everything? It doesn’t sound bearable to be so devoid of anything, so you must be searching for something.”

“Enough,” Ulquiorra said, but still Grimmjow went on.

“If your aspect controlled you or defined you, you wouldn’t do any of those things,” Grimmjow said, staring absentmindedly at Ulquiorra’s hand that held Murciélago. “But if you really are trying to control your aspect – to go against it, even, to understand the things you don’t know because of it and fight the emptiness by filling it – then are you in line with your nature or are you trying to fight it?”

“And what about me?” Grimmjow continued, just as Ulquiorra was ready to _make_ him shut up if he didn’t do it on his own. “If I continue to fight a battle I shouldn’t be able to win, am I destroying myself? Is that in or against my nature? Either way, I destroy something if I fight until the very end – them if I win or myself if I lose. But I haven’t fought to the death over my ranking, or the fact that I have no say in what cause I am fighting for, currently, even though I despise both.

“Am I controlling my aspect by refusing to risk my own destruction in trying to destroy the structures around me, or am I controlled by it because I keep coming back to this and can’t let this battle rest until something gives? It bothers me, that I can’t destroy everything in my path recklessly, but at the same time I can’t stand the thought of it – of breaking everything and everyone.”

Ulquiorra blinked. “I don’t know about your puny worries,” he said, finally sheathing Murciélago. “But there is no such thing as you have fantasised about that controls me. I’m not trying to fill any void.”

“Then why do you wonder about hearts?”

“Drop it,” Ulquiorra said, a warning swinging in his voice. It sounded different from the one he used when they argued just to fight. It was off.

“Why can’t you admit it!” Grimmjow barked, getting angry that he had bared himself and his innermost thoughts so fully while Ulquiorra insisted on upholding his stoic, uncaring façade. It had to be a façade. “Admit that you’re not in control of everything, even if you hate it. Because you do! You hate the idea that the reason you can never be fully empty is because of it, that the reason you care might be the very thing telling you that you shouldn’t be caring! Admit it!”

“Grimmjow, let it go. It’s pointless,” Ulquiorra repeated, his reiatsu flaring strangely for just a moment. There was an angry undertone in his usually so monotone voice.

Grimmjow grabbed Ulquiorra by the collar and pulled him up, relishing this tiny, tiny opening. “Admit it,” he growled.

“Let go of me.”

“Admit it.”

“Grimmjow…!”

“You’re not all empty…!”

“Grimmjow, stop it!”

“…and you resent it!”

“Grimmjow, shut up and let go of me!”

He had yelled it, against his better judgement and any of Grimmjow’s expectations, Ulquiorra had raised his voice. He’d let the emotion bleed through that, he hated to admit, he did resent having without understanding it. But there it was, making him wish he could rip Grimmjow apart and put him back together in a way that aligned with his thoughts. 

For a moment, they just stared at one another with burning eyes. Then, Grimmjow pushed Ulquiorra into the battered pillar beside them with force and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. 

“Well, it looks like they’ve sorted out whatever that was they had going on,” Aizen commented as he glanced at the two figures on the screens. “Seems they were flirting after all.”

“Oh, they ain’t flirtin’ now,” Gin hummed from behind. 

“Evidently,” Aizen said in a deadpan voice. “But maybe that means all the fighting is finally dealt with when they have quite finished with… that.”

“Oh no, y’see,” Gin said with a chuckle, “_Now_ they’re really fightin’.”

Grimmjow growled when Ulquiorra bit his lip. He tightened the grip on Ulquiorra’s jacket and gripped his hair tightly as he could with the other hand. Any more and the whole chunk might have just come out. Ulquiorra hissed and dug his nails into Grimmjow’s chest. 

Grimmjow growled again and finally tore away from Ulquiorra’s lips, only to stare at the green eyes inches before him. Ulquiorra stared back until the tension was no longer bearable. He grabbed a fistful of blue hair with so much strength that it hurt and forced Grimmjow’s lips back on his own. 

Grimmjow groaned, a sound that was as angry as it was aroused. He dug his hands into Ulquiorra’s hips and back, pressing him closer and grinding blindly, which rewarded him with a barely audible, strangled moan from Ulquiorra’s throat that forced its way out despite his efforts to stop it. 

It felt too good to ever stop, but just before it could get to that point where it would indeed be impossible to stop, Grimmjow pulled away and roughly grabbed Ulquiorra’s wrist to drag him away with him.

“Grimmjow – !” was all Ulquiorra could manage before the Sonído speed hit him and he had to concentrate to keep up. Well, that was new. Grimmjow stopped in front of a large door which he opened and pushed Ulquiorra through, only to follow him into his rooms and hastily close the door behind him.

“Grimmjow – !” Ulquiorra started again, fury now blazing rather blatantly in his eyes, but Grimmjow just took one large step towards him and pulled him into another painful kiss. With a flick of his arm, Ulquiorra pushed Grimmjow off of himself and against the door.

“What do you think you’re doing, you – !”

This time, Grimmjow didn’t get to finish his sentence as Ulquiorra pushed him against the door harshly and yanked him down by the collar into another kiss, leaving sharp lines of fingernails dragging across his bare chest. Grimmjow moaned and moved to grab Ulquiorra by the hips again, only to find his wrists pinned above his head and feel Ulquiorra biting his neck, hard.

Again, he couldn’t help but groan, noticing Ulquiorra’s heavy breathing just below his ear. White hands left burning paths all over his body – chest, hips, sides, thighs – only to leave him aching for a touch to his groin. Ulquiorra was purposefully not touching him and it was driving him insane until finally, he broke away from the door with force, grabbed Ulquiorra by the neck and threw him on the bed that stood just a few feet away.

Before the Cuatro Espada had the chance to retaliate, Grimmjow was on top of him, holding him down with his hand pressed just above his Hollow hole and sinking his teeth into the white neck. Ulquiorra was going to throw him off, shoot a cero through his chest or maybe just leave bite marks and trails of sharp fingernail scratches all over his body. He did none of that, however. He just stayed still, trying desperately to suppress the sounds that kept trying to escape him. He was not going to give Grimmjow the satisfaction.

Grimmjow meanwhile seemed pretty satisfied with the current situation – he noticed the tiny movements under him, the way Ulquiorra squirmed just the slightest bit as he tried to stay still and regain composure. Grimmjow let his hand lazily trace a path down Ulquiorra’s chest and abdomen, and he felt the pulse beneath the white skin quicken as he brushed over it with his lips.

But just before Grimmjow reached the edge of Ulquiorra’s hakama, he found himself flipped around and stared up, seeing the slit pupils blown so much that the usually deep green eyes looked almost black. He grinned, and then he groaned when he felt nails dragging across his chest. Ulquiorra was pressing closer, grinding against him and pushing his hand down his pants and Grimmjow felt like he had to be falling apart right then and there. Ulquiorra’s hands were cool, albeit warmer than usual, as they travelled down to his backside. He felt like he was seeing stars.

“Don’t… I can’t…!”

He wasn’t sure what he was even trying to say, but Ulquiorra was not about to let him finish anyway.

“You can and you will,” he said, breathless in a way that made Grimmjow wish he could stop moaning to grin. “I thought you were questioning your relationship with destruction.”

Grimmjow arched his back when Ulquiorra pushed in a finger. “Let me destroy you.”

While Grimmjow was busy feeling all the blood in his body rush down to his middle in a wave of heat, Ulquiorra pulled his pants off of him, which only made it worse. He pushed back against him, writhing and breathing heavily, digging his hands into the sheets. Ulquiorra pushed in a second finger and it _hurt_, but it also felt good – it felt exactly like he’d said. Like he was destroying him. 

Ulquiorra was silent as he watched Grimmjow throw his head back and moan and sigh and twist, wishing it didn’t make him feel warm inside, wishing it didn’t make him ache for something he didn’t understand. He pulled back.

Grimmjow stilled and looked up, about to complain, when he saw the green eyes stare at him intently. He knew that look well, and suddenly, he also knew what it meant. He grabbed Ulquiorra by the collar and flipped them around, tearing his jacket open in the process. 

“If you get to destroy me,” he said, panting as he trailed his fingertips across the white skin, “then I get to take away your emptiness.”

“You can’t…” Ulquiorra began, straining against the weight of Grimmjow on top of him, but broke off to stifle his moan when Grimmjow forcefully ripped away the remaining white fabric covering him and bit down just next to his hipbone. 

“I can and I will,” he purred with a grin, continuing to scatter bites across Ulquiorra’s abdomen and relishing the sound of hitching breaths and suppressed groans. He was still trying to resist, trying to find a moment to fight him off, but Grimmjow only needed to lower his mouth just a little more.

He closed his lips around Ulquiorra ever so gently and was rewarded with an actual moan. He felt a hand in his hair, pulling and pushing unsuccessfully, trying and failing to both get him to stop and keep him where he was. Grimmjow just closed his eyes. Every so often, he would hear the heavy breathing catch or even a strangled little noise of pleasure and it would shoot straight to his groin. He felt hot, he needed something, anything, more and more each time Ulquiorra made one of those noises.

He came back up, panting, staring at Ulquiorra’s unbelievably flushed cheeks and the slowly opening eyes with pupils blown open wide. Yet still, he looked strangely defiant, and Grimmjow pressed their lips together roughly, climbing over Ulquiorra and grabbing his hair, only for him to have the favour returned and his head bent back enough to separate them. He felt a hand on his lower back urging him down gently. They stared at each other with burning intensity. 

“I thought you were going to destroy me,” Grimmjow growled out through grit teeth. “So destroy me!”

He felt himself being pushed down with force and groaned at the slight pain that came with it. Ulquiorra made no sound, but Grimmjow felt his grip in his hair tighten and rocked his hips a little, which rewarded him with the strangled groan he’d hoped for. 

Ulquiorra had not planned or even anticipated that it would get this far, but he just continued to be as still as he could. He was going to destroy Grimmjow, luring him in and then giving him no more, watching as he fell apart over the nothing he’d receive.

But Ulquiorra had also not anticipated Grimmjow being on top of him, moving and moaning and driving himself insane while tugging at Ulquiorra’s hair and digging his nails into his collarbones. He felt his back arche into it as Grimmjow continued to ride him for all he was worth, making all sorts of noises in the process and panting and moaning and biting Ulquiorra’s neck.

Ulquiorra grabbed Grimmjow’s hair tight, pressed his hand into his hip and flipped them around in one swift motion. He pushed Grimmjow down with all his weight. Being 100 pounds soaking wet and weak in the knees, it was only that Grimmjow was entirely otherwise occupied which allowed him to do so.

Ulquiorra dug his nails into Grimmjow’s neck and pressed their lips together, cursing this heat surging through him and this feeling that made his movements more rapid the more Grimmjow moaned and arched under him, sputtering nonsense and grabbing at Ulquiorra. His hands left fiery trails everywhere. 

“I’ll destroy you,” Ulquiorra gasped, disbelieving how out of breath he sounded to be. “I’ll crush you until there’s nothing left of you.”

“Please!” was all Grimmjow managed in a voice that was too high-pitched for him as he pulled at the sheets underneath him and screwed his eyes shut.

A moan escaped Ulquiorra and as they grabbed and pulled and tore at each other, so did another, and another, before his mind went blank. He heard Grimmjow cry out as if from far away, and then felt his lips on his own with so much force, it felt like a bruise.

“I think they’re about done fightin’ now, don’t ya?”

“Fighting,” Aizen repeated in a deadpan voice. Gin grinned like he always did. 

“They were clearly fucking.”

“They will be now,” Gin said with a hum, “But trust me. They _were _ fightin’.”

“I do believe your vision is severely impaired.”

“Can’t say I share yer belief.”

Aizen just sighed. “We’ll have to decide how to handle this.”

Gin hummed patiently while Aizen mulled over how to make use of this development in a way that would benefit him, or at least not disadvantage him. After all, he was known for his omniscience and infallible judgement.

Behind him, Gin continued to grin.

“Miserable job you did there,” Grimmjow teased while Ulquiorra closed up his jacket. He himself had given up after getting his pants back on and was now lounging about the bed. “I’m decidedly not destroyed.”

When he received no answer, he went on: “Well, to be fair, I also entirely failed to fill you to any capacity, so we’ll call a truce.”

Ulquiorra shot him a look and Grimmjow gave him a half-serious wink. “Come on now, at least tell me why you’re so hellbent on avoiding that particular topic. I’ll leave it alone after that, I promise.”

The fact that he was still grinning widely diminished the perceived sincerity of that promise a fair bit, but after a moment, Ulquiorra gave a deep sigh and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Because,” he said in a tone that made very clear that he would say this once and once only, “I find comfort in emptiness. It is familiar. But I have limited understanding of many things as a result.”

Grimmjow waited, and after a few seconds, Ulquiorra continued.

“Things like emotions. Desires. I do not understand them, but I don’t lack them, either. I would say I merely have a limited capacity for them.”

“Why’s that so bad?” Grimmjow asked with a half-shrug. “I mean, I see the downside to me wanting to smash everything ever, but I still want to do it. I just gotta calculate the payoff I’m likely to get if I try. Not that I’m very good at that,” he added with a short laugh. 

Ulquiorra turned to look at him. “To pursue my understanding of these things means to sacrifice my source of comfort. That’s how I calculate. It’s why I’m so opposed to the things that I wish to understand.”

“That’s fair, I guess. Why’d you get so mad about it?”

“Because you’re one of the things I can’t calculate.”

Grimmjow was too perplexed to say anything to that. He just blinked a couple of times. “What?” he finally managed. 

Ulquiorra bent down to gently brush his hand through the blue mess of hair on Grimmjow’s head. 

“You fall out of my system,” he said, more to himself than to Grimmjow it seemed. “Everything I can either allow in and sacrifice some comfort for the sake of a greater understanding, or I can disregard it and move on. You keep coming back, again and again, but I can’t understand you. I can’t let you in or you’ll consume everything around you and I still won’t understand how or why. But I can’t keep you out, either.”

Grimmjow stared at the green eyes above his. 

“You don’t need to understand me,” he finally said, and he didn’t know why he sounded so choked up. “I don’t understand you either. All I know is I hate knowing that I can never destroy you, but it feels… comforting that there’s something I can never break, even if I try forever. Even if I turn the whole world to ash, you’ll still be there. I would go insane if there was nothing left.”

“You think you can destroy everything,” said Ulquiorra, finally looking down to meet Grimmjow’s eyes. His hand dropped. “Why would I be the exception?”

“I don’t know,” Grimmjow said, hoarse. “I just know that I can’t.”

For a long moment, it was silent. 

“How do you know you can’t destroy me?” Ulquiorra asked, voice nothing more than a tight whisper.

“How do you know you can’t understand me?” Grimmjow whispered back.

Ulquiorra stared at him. He felt like he could, from very far away, hear something fall into place. “I think…” he began and then trailed off, eyes still transfixed on Grimmjow’s face. Slowly, realization dripped into his mind. 

He would never understand him. As long as Grimmjow was there, he would always have something he could not grasp, something too different from him to be able to fill all the empty spaces inside of him. 

“I think… I just did.”

Grimmjow kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Ulquiorra and pulled him down, and Ulquiorra understood. He felt a little of the emptiness inside fade, but somehow, he didn’t mind.


End file.
